by Nicole Snow
She loves to antagonize me, no question, but there’s no disparaging her work quality.
She calls me Wardhole throughout the document. Did she clean it up before she sent it to anyone else?
It’s another fucking eye roll, but I prefer the whole senior staff not knowing me as Wardhole. That juvenile Warden nickname they fling around behind my back is bad enough.
Holly’s right, though.
I did my share of stupid crap in my youth, especially before I enlisted in the Army. A decade older and so much wiser, and I still do stupid shit.
I almost married Maria Duchessny, for one, only the most self-absorbed witch on the planet.
Apparently, I also can’t shut my yap when it involves repeatedly savaging a gorgeous, smart, and talented young woman. Even if I can’t stand Miss Holly, perhaps I’ve been too harsh.
With the worst of securing the Winthrope contract over, maybe I should back off.
Lighten up.
Can I handle being less of a Wardhole? Her nickname almost makes me smirk for once.
I hate that I haven’t seen her since she bit my head off in the lobby.
We need to clear the air.
I open my door to call her into my office, but her desk is empty.
Not just hers, I realize a second later. There’s some kind of commotion.
People dart around the lobby like confused bees. Eerily quiet. When someone speaks, it’s in hushed tones.
Something’s very wrong in this office.
My eyes assess the situation, trying to suss it out.
After watching two people run in and out of Grandma’s office, my heart begins to pound. I sprint across the lobby and burst through her door, eyes flicking over the scene and—
My fucking pulse stops dead.
Grandma lies on the floor, a contorted, pale mess that looks more like a crash dummy than the living, breathing, vibrant woman who gave me my world.
Paige kneels beside her, doing frantic chest compressions.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I’m going to lose it.
I want to move, but I don’t know how, my brain rabbiting into the darkness.
She raised us. She raised me. Is she—no, she has to be okay.
We can’t lose her.
Think, dammit, a voice barks in my mind.
My hand knots into a fist. Sweat beads on my brow. Something squeezes my chest so tight any air is crushed out of me.
I’m not sure how much longer I can stay vertical. I take a few clumsy steps forward and rest my hand on her desk for balance.
Then Nick appears in a stricken rush at my side.
“Ward? What happened?” His voice is thin, terrified.
It’s also the kick in the ass I need to hear my little brother scared.
I take a deep breath, hold up one finger, and become myself again. The oldest. The protector. My voice is low and shaky, but it works. “Paige?”
I don’t get tripped up on formalities. This isn’t the time.
“I just...” Her whole body moves with the next compression. “I found her like this.”
Nick starts past me. I throw up my arm to keep him back.
“No. Paige has it. Let her try.”
“But—”
“Nick,” I growl.
The one-word admonition has always been enough.
His face goes slack. “You think she’d leave us with someone we barely knew?”
I know what he means, but at the same time Miss Holly is working her fingers to the bone, and I want to defend her.
“If you can’t stay calm, you can’t be here. They need space. Keep it together for Grandma. We have to,” I grind out.
Nick nods woodenly, moves to a wall, and slumps against it, ruffling his shirt.
Paige takes a deep breath and presses down on Grandma’s chest again. Right now, I wish I had a shred of first aid skill, but I wasn’t a medic.
I turn to the door, my legs pure concrete, eyes searching for some way to help.
“What can I do?” I force out. My voice is low, ragged.
“Already called 9-1-1.” A few seconds later, Paige lets out a long sigh. “She’s okay. I think. She has a pulse.”
She collapses against Grandma’s desk with her knees up, head resting on them, taking deep breaths.
“How do you know?” I ask.
“She’s breathing.” Paige catches her breath and stands.
“She is?” Nick straightens up.
Paige picks up Grandma’s arm and checks her pulse. She smiles. “Yep. Feels stable enough and she has a steady pulse.” She grimaces. “But it might be a little slow.”
Fuck.
We’re not out of the woods yet and I can’t fathom where this forest ends.
I nod to Paige. “Thank you. We’ll take it from here.”
Nick starts moving toward Grandma again and I roll up my sleeves. I haven’t the foggiest idea what the hell to do.
“Ward—Mr. Brandt—I think you should stay put,” Paige says harshly.
Nick’s forehead creases and he looks at me—the big brother—like he expects me to tell her to go to hell.
God, Nick. Don’t do this to me. I can’t even think straight right now.
He takes another step.
I’m going to have to give him an errand. I rack my brain to come up with one.
Paige puts her hands out, palms up. “I—I don’t think she should be overwhelmed right now, and we can’t move her until the EMTs get here.”
He stops in his tracks and shoves a hand through his hair. “But—”
“Nick, can you do me a favor?” I sigh.
“What’s up?”
“Go downstairs and wait for the paramedics. That way, you can show them where she is, and they won’t waste any time,” I say sternly.
“Yeah, shit. Good thinking.” Nick nods and leaves the room, pumping his legs in a run.
Paige keeps watching Grandma, making sure she’s breathing and occasionally checking her pulse.
Her blond hair spills down over her shoulders. The sun filtering in through the vine-covered windows turns it into a scene from a movie where I’d swear an angel just descended.
“Thank you for—for everything,” I say, brushing a hand across hers.
I can’t help it.
I’m scared shitless we might lose Grandma. Somehow that’s almost as scary as thinking my foul fucking behavior could’ve cost me Paige Holly.
What the hell would be happening if she wasn’t here right now?
Paige nods but doesn’t say much. She just stands over Grandma, loyal till the end, intent on giving everything she can.
Two paramedics burst through my grandmother’s office door a second later. The woman unfolds a gurney while her partner checks Grandma’s pulse the same way Paige did multiple times.
“Present but slow,” he calls.
“We’re ready for her,” the woman answers.
The other paramedic lays her on the gurney, and they start rolling to the elevator with her. Paige and I follow behind at a rapid clip.
“Where’s Nick?” she asks.
“Nick? The guy panicking in the lobby?” The lady paramedic walking backward behind Grandma shakes her head. “Some people don’t handle this well.”
“One person can ride in the ambulance. Everyone else takes a separate car,” the male paramedic says.
“Ward, you should probably ride in the ambulance. Nick, he’s—well—Nick.” Paige’s voice is quiet.
Damn if I don’t smile for the briefest second.
That’s the best way to sum up my little brother I’ve ever heard.
“Come with us?” I ask.
Fuck, I hate the way I sound. That wasn’t supposed to be a question.
“What? Why? Really?” she asks, blinking those lush green eyes.
“Yes, really. I need someone who can think straight. It’s not me today, and you’ve met Nick.”
“He’s upset today, too.”
/> “I know, so we need you,” I whisper.
What the hell am I saying? I don’t need anyone.
Miss Holly nods.
At this point, we’re getting off the elevator on the first floor behind the paramedics.
Nick stands in the middle of the hall, looking distraught. “They were here and then they weren’t.”
“It’s okay. We’re going to the hospital right now,” Paige says.
I veer my head toward her. “She’ll drive you. I’m going in the ambulance.”
“Why?” he asks.
“Unless you’re comfortable and clearheaded enough to okay medical interventions, I need to be in the ambulance.” I hate the bite in my own voice, but this man can be such a knucklehead.
He nods, recovering his wits. He grabs Paige’s hand and pulls her outside. Reese is parked right behind the ambulance. I watch them jump into the back of the car.
Nick, calm the fuck down, I think.
But there’s no time to fumble. Not when Grandma needs us like never before.
The second she’s in the ambulance, I climb in, steeling myself.
For everyone’s sake, I need to step the fuck up.
The three of us sit in a hospital waiting room for hours.
Miss Holly excuses herself, and when she comes back, she’s holding a mocha in one hand and a black drip in the other.
I snort with surprise when I take the cup.
“Just Ward today? No decaf? No rat in a heat-resistant suit waiting to jump out?” I joke.
“Not today.” She just gives me this gut-punching smile.
“Paige, thank you,” Nick says as he takes his mocha and slurps before saying, “We’re not at work and this is an emergency. You didn’t have to fetch the coffee.”
“I thought I’d be nice to my bosses,” she says sweetly.
My eyes flick to those plush pink lips. I know it’s the last place I should ever be fixated on her mouth, but fuck if my mind isn’t dragged in a hundred senseless directions.
“You’re nice every day,” Nick says firmly.
I flash him a dirty look. Why would he say that shit?
If he plans on making her his flavor of the week, smitten with her caring touch, he has another thing coming. She works with us and it’s totally inappropriate.
Also, I met her first, so he’s got no damn claim to—
Like I said. Inappropriate.
End of story.
She smiles at Nick but doesn’t say anything more. I get the sense she’s trying to fight back some sarcastic barb meant for me.
She smooths her skirt out as she sits down beside Nick, tucking one creamy leg behind the other.
There’s something regal about the way she moves.
She covers her mouth to let out a yawn and pulls out her hair tie. Threaded gold cascades down her back and shoulders, framing her like a halo sent from a better place.
It’s every bit a sucker punch to my chest and my badly behaved dick.
Yes, I know what a piece of crap I am, thank you very much.
I called this girl a drunk, a reckless idiot, and then she went and saved my grandmother’s life.
Sighing, I put the cup she gave me to my lips and suck in bitter black nirvana, wishing it could wash away my guilt.
You need to make this right, jackass.
A woman in blue scrubs comes up to us. “Brandt party?”
Nick and I stand at the same time.
“That’s us,” I say.
“Is she okay?” Nick sputters, coughing into his hand.
“She’s in recovery right now. She’ll be getting moved soon. I’m afraid she won’t be going home tonight. Room three forty-five will be hers, if you find it more comfortable, you can wait there.”
Nick nods and looks at me. “We should be there when she arrives. I don’t want her waking in a hospital room alone.”
“She’s probably going to be a little out of it. Not sure it’ll matter.”
Nick’s eyes narrow, never leaving my face. “We’ll wait there.”
“Okay, come on.” I slap a hand on his shoulder.
We find room three forty-five all the way down the hall on the left. I open the door, and Nick follows me in.
It’s an ordinary hospital room. The bed looks silver and sterile. Tubes tumble out of the wall like tentacles. A stand to hang IVs on sits beside the bed.
Nick pulls up the one chair in the corner of the room. I stand in front of the door, surveying my brother.
Grandma has to survive. Has to.
If she doesn’t, it’s not just me I’m worried about. I’ll be responsible for keeping Nick’s shit together, too.
“She’s so tough. I never thought I’d see her like this.” His voice is low, quiet, pained. Not like my normally boisterous brother who pretends he’s never met a care in the world.
“She’s seventy-two. We’ve been lucky so far.” My chest aches saying it, but it’s reality.
Someone taps on the door.
“She must be here.” I open the door.
A tall doctor with wire-framed glasses stands on the other side. “Mr. Brandt? I’m Doctor Than.”
I nod.
Nick stands.
“Ward Brandt has POA,” the doctor says.
Shit. First I’m hearing about it, but it makes sense.
“P-O-A?” Nick asks.
“Power of Attorney. It’s when—”
“I know what Power of Attorney means. I’m not that clueless,” Nick snaps, his face tightening.
I don’t say anything.
“Is she all right?” I ask the doctor.
“Why would she make you her POA?” Nick asks jealously.
I sigh.
Does he even have to ask?
“Who knows. Can I talk to the doctor first, and then we can discuss it like civilized men?”
“Yes, we will talk to the doctor. Then you and I can talk about why Grandma would make only you her POA.”
“Sorry.” I look at the doctor with a rough smile.
He laughs. “No problem, I have three daughters...”
Ouch. Nick and I don’t really fight.
He just hates being the youngest with the most baggage. Truth be told, sometimes I wish I didn’t have all the responsibility crushed on my shoulders.
“Is she okay, doctor?” I ask again.
Than nods. “Yes. Mrs. Brandt had a minor surgery tonight. From what I can tell, she’s had a genetic heart defect—probably since birth. She’s been quite fortunate she’s never had an issue before. But she’s going to be staying in the hospital until we have her well on the way to recovery. She’ll be here tonight for observation, and likely at least a few more.”
“Will you be her attending physician?” I ask.
He nods. “I make rounds in the morning and evening, so if you have questions you’ll need to be here then. You can always leave a message through a nurse or email me, and I’ll get back to you.”
I nod firmly, my head feeling too light, the outer world reeling.
This is fucked.
How did we go from the high of winning over Winthrope earlier today to wondering if Grandma will even pull through to hear the news?
Dr. Than’s eyes trace from my tense face to Nick’s. “You two can relax. She’s in great shape for a seventy-two-year-old woman. I wish my overall health was as good.”
“She walks two miles a day,” Nick says proudly, puffing up his chest.
“Well, she’ll need to slow down she’s home,” Dr. Than says.
I hesitate, clearing my throat.
“How long do you think she’ll be in here?” I ask.
Than shakes his head. “I can’t say before we’ve assessed her. However, I can tell you that even once she gets home, she’s going to need plenty of relaxation with no stress. Some activities will be okay and could even boost her cardiovascular system, but nothing strenuous like running.”
“She’s going to be off work for a while,” Nick say
s slowly, the realization dawning on him.
“Indeed, she will,” the doctor says. “A substantial leave of absence would do her well. She’s still in recovery, but they should be bringing her in soon. It’s a pleasure meeting you both.”
He walks away, and I shut the door again.
“Fuck,” Nick says, doubling over and grabbing his head. “This is the worst time for this.”
“You mean there would be a good time for Grandma to have ‘minor’”—I put finger quotes around the word minor, because the heart seems fairly fucking vital—“heart problems?” I finish.
A slow, sad smile crawls across Nick’s face. “Ah, Wardhole, it hasn’t hit you yet, huh?”
“What?”
“What’s the big news today?” he asks, his face looking pale.
“Grandma had a heart attack,” I say. “What do you mean?”
He shakes his head. “See? It’s worse when you actually say it. I mean, the doctor didn’t say heart attack, but—”
“No, dumbass, people always have heart surgery for fun, right?” I snap.
He glares at me.
“I know you don’t want it to be true, but it is what it is,” I say with a sigh.
“Whatever. It still hasn’t hit you.”
What’s he on about?
“Can we stop being vague? What hasn’t hit me?”
“What happened right before Grandma had her minor heart surgery?” He air quotes the last few words.
“The tentative acceptance of the—” I stop as it hits me between the eyes. “The Winthrope deal.”
“Bingo.” Nick snaps his fingers like a gunshot going off. “And the doctor just said Grandma can’t be stressed.”
Shit, he’s right.
“It’s not the end of the world,” I say glumly, shaking my head. “We’re just going to have to figure it out. We’re grown men, brother. We can handle filling Grandma’s slippers for a few weeks, months, whatever it takes.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Yeah? How? Ross Winthrope made it crystal clear he trusts Grandma. Us, not so much.”
“Don’t worry,” I say, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’ll keep doing what you do best—ensure the design process is flawless, and make sure it fits Grandma’s vision. That’s more critical than ever now. Vision won us the job.”
Nick nods like a bobblehead. “What about the mile-wide rod up that guy’s ass?”